


Doctor John's

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Comment Fic 2016 [55]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7834885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Any, Any, adult store AU."</p><p>Rodney has to brave a visit to an adult store, and to make things worse, the guy behind the counter is pretty hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor John's

Rodney took a deep breath and reached for the door handle of the infamous Doctor John's. And chickened out. He fled back to his car and buckled himself into the driver's seat and even had his key in the ignition before he stopped himself.  
  
No. He had to do this. For Jeannie. Because Newton knew Mom and Dad wouldn't lift a a damn finger to help her with this wedding. Was Rodney happy that Jeannie was foregoing grad school and marrying some English Major and having a kid? Hell no. But he loved her and he wanted to support her, and if she was getting married, then he'd help out with the wedding. He was uncomfortable with the wedding process not because he was a man and society said men were supposed to be uncomfortable with it but because he was uncomfortable with romance and feelings and other people in general. Physics made sense. Black holes made sense. Weddings did not.  
  
But he was a genius. He could figure anything out through science. So he read stacks of bridal magazines and might have misappropriated the university's World Wide Web connection to do some research, but he knew what he had to do. Jeannie said since he was gay he might be comfortable hanging out with her friends than Kaleb's friends. He was more comfortable hanging out with her friends because her friends were smarter, but he wasn't about to tell her that. He could be people stupid, but he wasn't that stupid.   
  
One part of hanging out with her friends meant helping plan the pre-wedding parties, including the bachelorette party and bridal shower. He'd studied up on the traditions, and he knew what to do. For the bridal shower he'd braved Victoria's Secret to buy her a tasteful (read: nun-like) piece of lingerie and also Bed Bath & Beyond to get her some monogrammed towels (for her new married name which conveniently had the same initials as her maiden name).  
  
For the bachelorette party, he had to brave, well...Doctor John's. Rodney took a deep breath, and another, and got out of his car, keys and wallet in hand.  
  
He even made it inside the door this time.  
  
The place wasn't quite like he'd expected – no black lighting, neon signs, lurid displays. Instead the place was arranged almost like a museum, with wood-and-glass cabinets displaying all kinds of things that Rodney guessed were sex toys but he couldn't begin to figure out the purpose of (and he really didn't want to know, because he was here to buy something for his sister).  
  
Rodney roamed the aisles rows of cabinets and tables laid with ornate crocheted doilies and wondered what he could get that she would appreciate that wouldn't scar him for life. He spotted something that looked like The Tardis – Jeannie loved Doctor Who – and then he realized it was a cock-shaped Tardis and backed away from it.  
  
"Can I help you?"  
  
Rodney actually screamed.  
  
There, standing behind the counter with an old-fashioned brass cash register on it, was an unfairly good-looking guy about Rodney's age. He stylish spiky black hair, a t-shirt with Homer Simpson on it, and was smiling patiently at Rodney.  
  
"I, er, I –"  
  
"Looking for anything in particular?" the guy asked.  
  
"Ah, no. Not really. Just...browsing."  
  
"Okay. You do that. I'm here if you need anything." And the guy turned his attention back to whatever he was writing.  
  
Rodney drew himself up, attempted to look knowledgeable, and rounded the corner. And almost ran into a display case full of leather corsets, chains, shackles, and whips. He squeaked.  
  
"You sure you're okay, buddy?"  
  
Rodney was a certified genius, a highly intelligent man, he could figure out anything, he could – "No." He tip-toed around the corner and back to the counter where the guy was waiting.  
  
Rodney stared at his nametag. "Is your name really John?"  
  
"Yes, but no relation to Doctor John," he said. He had an easy smile. Bastard probably got laid left and right just by smiling at women. Not that Rodney was jealous of the women. "What are you looking for?"  
  
"I, well, I'm going to a bachelorette party," Rodney said.  
  
John raised his eyebrows. "Bachelorette?"  
  
"I'm gay and I don't want to go to the bachelor party and have naked women invade my personal space and also I'm not too fond of the groom," Rodney said, defensive.

John raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Hey, this is a judgment-free zone. Just making sure you and I are on the same page. So, what are you looking to get for the lucky bachelorette?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Do you know what she's into? Bondage, domination, role-playing –"  
  
Rodney was filled with unspeakable horror. "No! No! I don't know! She's my sister!"  
  
John broke off. "Your sister?"  
  
"Yes. Is that a problem?"  
  
"No. I just – either you and your sister have a very open relationship or you're a very nice brother, maybe a little too nice," John said.  
  
Rodney narrowed his eyes at him. "I thought you said this was a judgment-free zone."  
  
"It is. I understand why you might not know what to get her. Maybe something generic, like massage oil? Some nice scented ones," John suggested. He looked a little apologetic, so Rodney was mollified.  
  
"That sounds like a safe choice," Rodney said. "Where are they?"  
  
John directed him two aisles away from the desk and three aisles to the left, and there, in a pleasing display of tiered shelves, was a series of glass vials. Rodney knew Jeannie liked the scent of roses, but Kaleb might appreciate something a bit more masculine too, and what about self-heating massage oil? And the edible chocolate-flavored kind?  
  
Rodney imagined John spread out on his bed, covered in chocolate sauce, and immediately banished the thought.  
  
He was here on mission. Shop for Jeannie. Help plan the party.  
  
He returned to the counter and laid out his purchases.  
  
John raised his eyebrows at the number of vials. "You really are a nice brother."   
  
"I'm trying not to think about it," Rodney said.  
  
"Good luck with that." John smiled to soften the edge of sarcasm in his words and began ringing up Rodney's purchases. The brass cash register was old-fashioned, with the dings and loud keys and everything.  
  
It also took forever to ring up all of the vials. While John poked at the cash register with irritating slowness, Rodney eyed the thing he'd been writing. Not writing. Answering. A MENSA test.  
  
"You're joining MENSA?" he asked.  
  
John glanced up from where he was squinting at a price tag on one of the vials. "What? Oh. No. Not really my thing. The quizzes are free in the backs of magazines sometimes, and they're pretty fun when I run out of Sudoku puzzles." He nodded at what Rodney had assumed was a stack of sex-toy catalogues and was in fact a pile of sudoku puzzle books with a little sign on top: ONE per week. This means YOU, John.  
  
John was handsome and answered MENSA quizzes for fun. And judging by what he'd filled out so far, answered them correctly. Rodney wondered if he was gay or bi or at least curious, then pushed that aside, because the world wasn't that kind to him.  
  
John finished ringing up the vials of oil and rattled off the total, which wasn't as bad as Rodney had been afraid of.  
  
Rodney reached for his wallet. "Do you take cards?"  
  
"Oh, sure." John reached under the counter and drew out a little black detached card reader, turned it around for Rodney to use.  
  
"Thanks," Rodney said, unaccountably relieved. He fished his credit card out of the pile of cards in his disorganized little wallet and smiled when he handed it to John. Home free. In and out of the sex store, easy; no witnesses, no embarrassment.  
  
"By the way," John said, once he handed over the receipt. "The honey-jasmine oil? Is totally my favorite."   
  
Rodney's pulse stuttered. "I'll remember that."   
  
"I hope you do."  
  
Rodney grabbed the box of vials and fled for his car with as much dignity as he could muster. He made it all the way home and wrapped the box before he realized there was a phone number written on the back of the receipt, and a note. _My shift ends at four._  
  
Rodney glanced at his watch. It was four-ten. He swore and dove for his phone.


End file.
